


pain is absurd because it exists, nothing more

by shamelessnameless



Series: Monsters are always hungry, darling [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last few months hadn’t been easy on Marco. He was starting to suspect that they had been indefinitely harder for Mats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pain is absurd because it exists, nothing more

**Author's Note:**

> Title is stolen from the great Bukowski, who would probably not be happy with this choice.

When Mats came out of the restroom, Marco’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He looked terrible, eyes deep red and puffy and he carried his body in a nervous and unsure way that was so unlike Mats that Marco felt a weird sense of vertigo.

“Hey,” Marco whispered and got up slowly. Mats looked at him briefly and then dropped his eyes to the floor. For a few moments they just stood in silence and then Mats jerked into motion, going to grab his bag. Marco took a fast step between him and the bench. “Mats,” he said, keeping his voice low, “let us talk, ok? Let me take you home and then we’ll talk, yes?” Mats would still not meet his eyes, staring instead at his bag behind Marco. Marco’s heartbeat accelerated. He took a careful step closer towards Mats who in turn took two rapid steps back and then turned his back on Marco. “There’s nothing to talk about, Marco,” he said, his voice raspy and tired. “I think there is a lot we should talk about,” Marco answered carefully. “At least, there is a lot I want to talk about with you,” he continued softly. Mats breathed in and out deeply, then nodded jerkily. “Are you okay to drive, or should I call a cab?” Marco asked. Mats didn’t react, just kept breathing unsteadily. Marco hesitated and then took a careful step around him to see his face. Mats eyes were still red and there was a sheen of sweat all over his body. Marco looked at him for a moment and then proceeded to call them a cab. “Let’s go and wait outside, yes,” he said, grabbing both of their bags, hoping that some fresh air would help Mats calm down. He wanted to reach out and take a careful hold of Mats’ elbow, but Mats dodged his attempt and started to head towards the parking lot. It had started to smell like spring a few days earlier, but the air today was crisp and a sharp wind had been blowing the whole day. They stood next to each other in silence, both of them shivering a bit now that the sun was about to set and after entering the cab Marco watched Mats lean his head against the window, staring outside.

\--------------------

The last few months hadn’t been easy on Marco. He was starting to suspect that they had been indefinitely harder for Mats.

\--------------------

He had debated with himself for hours after having read the news of Mats breaking up with his wife. Had dialed Mats phone number a 100 times and then, ultimately, decided against it. If Mats wanted to talk to Marco, he would call right? If Mats had broken up with Cathy to be with Marco, we would surely want Marco to know about that decision? If he needed to talk with someone, because divorcing your wife was a painful affair no matter the circumstances he would get in touch with Marco, because Marco could give him comfort and the possibility to speak without censoring himself?

But the phone didn’t ring and maybe Marco was going crazy. 

He waited, waited all through their winter break for any sign that this breakup had anything to do with him at all. 

There was no sign.

\--------------------

Mats was very indifferent when training started, not talking much at all. He certainly didn’t talk with Marco. Marco felt himself getting more and more frustrated with every hour that passed during their first session. They had been through so much. Mats had told him that he loved him and now what – he had broken up with Cathy and that wasn’t true anymore? He had broken up with Cathy and still didn’t want to be with Marco? Marco’s frustration turned into sadness when he went down to the dressing room with the others and then to hot, sobbing tears under the shower when Mats wordlessly grabbed his bag and left without showering. When Marco finally made it back into the dressing room, Auba was still there and Papa and Lukasz and Schmelle and pretty much everyone else, all looking at him. Marco felt a cold thrill of panic running through him, the integrated fear of being caught out winning over the rational part of his mind that noticed how worried everyone looked. Auba took a few fast steps in his direction and then he was hugged and people stroked through his hair and rubbed his back and kissed his cheek while Auba held him securely and whispered, “it’s not your fault.”

Marco noticed how the team was treating Mats in the coming weeks; it was kind of hard not to. He talked with Auba about it, pointing out that Mats had done nothing wrong. “I disagree,” Auba said carefully, “he could have at least done a lot of things differently.” “Maybe,” Marco said, “but I broke up with him. He owes me nothing. This isn’t fair on him. He can’t help it if he doesn’t want to be with me.” They were sitting on one of the benches at the sidelines of the pitch, watching the others take their water break as well. Auba leaned back and loosely hugged Marco close to him with one arm. “I know,” he said softly, “and it’s not like everyone started hating him, Marco. He isn’t making it very easy to like him at the moment. I know that some of the guys first tried talking with him when training started, but he reacted in no way. Let’s just give it time.” Marco nodded, watching Mats standing a bit apart from the team, his back towards him and Pierre. “I miss him,” Marco admitted (he had no words for how much he really missed him). “I think he needs help and I don’t know how to help him.” Auba was watching Mats too, his forehead creased in thought. “He probably does,” he said softly, “but I don’t know how to help him, because he is blocking us out. You can’t help him either or he would talk with you. You shouldn’t feel bad about not being able to help the man who couldn’t make up his mind about who he wanted to be with.” Marco sighed. “It doesn’t feel as clear cut to me,” he said. Mats hadn’t moved in the last five minutes, still staring off at some point in the distance. 

\--------------------

Marco had been working on his own peace of mind for a while now. He knew that this was something he could only achieve by himself and he had people in his life by now who supported him and loved him and asked very carefully how he was doing after a therapy session (he had still no idea how Auba had figured out that he was taking them or how he knew when they took place). But that didn’t stop him from longing to go home and have someone listening to him, have someone rub his back and cuddle him while he tried to sleep. And that someone he longed for was still Mats.

\--------------------

He watched Mats during training and he worried. He read all the fucking newspaper articles criticizing Mats’ performance, Mats’ lack of confidence, Mats’ lack of girlfriend. Mats would sometimes look up and catch Marco’s gaze, only to immediately break eye contact again. It hurt Marco, hurt him deeply, because he couldn’t understand what was happening, how Mats could cut him out of his life so completely. He had moments when he wanted to go up to him and hug him and kiss him and maybe slap him briefly and then take him home and feed him and force him to tell Marco everything that must have happened after Marco broke up with him. But he never managed to work up the courage to do it, too afraid to be rejected. 

“Auba,” Marco said when he started to seriously worry about Mats after their game against Hertha. “Something’s wrong with him.” Auba looked up from where he was packing up his things. “Pierre,” Marco said and he could tell that his voice had gone shrill, “something is really wrong with him and none of us is helping him and –“ “Hey,” Auba said, standing up abruptly and slinging both of his arms around Marco’s waist. “Calm down, okay?” Auba said, “we can try talking with him again. Mo will come back next week and he can try talking with him as well, ok? He might be able to get through to him, because he wasn’t there at the beginning, ok?” Marco nodded, hiding his face against Auba’s neck. 

\--------------------

He knew that some of the guys wanted to take him to a club, wanted to get him drunk and have him flirt with some men, thinking it would help Marco get over Mats. He had entertained it too, had mulled the thought over and over in his head. But Marco couldn’t go through with it; couldn’t imagine being touched by people he didn’t know and trust, couldn’t imagine being kissed by someone other than Mats. He couldn’t even start thinking about having sex with someone other than Mats. “You have to accept what happened to you and move on,” his therapist had said a few weeks ago, “that doesn’t mean there will be no bad days. There will be days when you’ll feel like shit. You have to accept that too. You can challenge yourself to do better, but you need to accept the boundaries that experience left you with.” 

\--------------------

Marco could hardly breathe when he saw the pictures of Cathy after scrolling through instagram in his bed one night. He hesitated for a few long minutes and then called up Marcel, who he had been barely seeing in the last months. After realizing that his team knew about his sexual orientation the friendship with Marcel had started to fray. Marco preferred to have a single beer with Auba or a coffee with Papa over going out with Marcel, preferred the honest conversations he could have with them over Marcel’s tries to find him a girl for a hook-up. Auba was lobbying for telling Marcel the truth but Marco hesitated, afraid that their public friendship didn’t provide the same restraints his professional environment provided (he knew that there were a few guys who were not ok with Marco being gay and definitely not ok with Marco and Mats having an affair, but their personal opinion didn’t threaten Marco). “I know this sounds weird,” said Marco, “but you kind of need to drive me to Mats' place right now.” Marcel agreed (quite suspiciously and Marco heard Auba’s voice in his mind telling him to stop being afraid of being who he was with people who were his friends) and picked Marco up and Marco spent a good ten minutes staring at Mats’ house. All windows he could see were dark. He was contemplating with himself if he should go and ring the bell. Maybe he should climb the fence and have a look at the back of the house? “Marco,” Marcel said, “this is really freaky even for you. What’s going on?” “I’m worried he is doing something stupid to himself once he sees the pictures of Cathy,” Marco answered. Omitting big parts of the truth was not lying, right? “We won’t find out if you keep staring at his house in the middle of the night,” Marcel said and Marco could tell that he was becoming impatient, so they left and Marco was nervous until the morning when he saw Mats before training. It was pure impulse that had him reaching out, grabbing Mats’ arm and asking him carefully if he was okay.

\--------------------

“You’re right,” Marco said when he walked outside and found Auba already on the pitch, “he doesn’t give a fucking shit about me.” Auba turned to him, a question written clear on his face. “I saw the pictures of Cathy last night and I just asked him if he was ok and he was lying and didn’t even try to hide it and he couldn’t stand to spent a fucking second in my company,” Marco said. He felt so fucking low. “I loved him, Auba,” he whispered and it was hard to breathe (and why was it always so hard to breathe for Marco, the world was a fucking unfair place). Auba ran his hand from Marco’s hair down to his back and back up, the motion slow and soothing. “I know, baby,” he said, stepping closer to Marco, “I know.”

\--------------------

Mo came back into their team, frowning at them when they tried to tell him that he had to talk with Mats. Marco was sure that he was given a short version of all that had happened (though it was no news to Mo that Mats and Marco had been a couple, and again, how had Marco missed the whole team knowing about them?). He wasn’t part of the discussion. He still cared, god, he really did, but he couldn’t stand there and listen to them. He wanted Mats to be ok, without him having to be involved at all, if he had meant that little to Mats. 

Mo failed to get Mats to talk. 

\--------------------

Looking back on those months, Marco really thought he should have seen the big bang coming, should have trusted his judgment of Mats’ character above all. No matter how often Mats would tell him later on that none of it had been his fault; no matter how often the others would claim that they had all just done what they thought was best, Marco couldn’t get over the fact how they had abandoned Mats, how no one made a real, heartfelt offer to help him. Marco should have made that offer, regardless of their history.

\-------------------- 

Marco didn’t want to be captain – that was Mats’ role, one he had fulfilled quite well at the start of the season. When Tuchel and Mats came out and announced the change, Marco couldn’t help but be angry and annoyed that this was going to be another thing he would need to take care of. And then Mats looked at him and Marco knew, knew that this had to end, because Mats looked close to collapsing and Marco could be the bigger person for once, if he had to, could get over his ingrained fear of taking any initiative outside of the pitch, if it got that look off Mats’ face. He was done listening to his insecurities. Mats needed help and he was going to help him.

His determination didn’t weaken when Mats locked himself in one of the stalls in the restroom, didn’t leave when Mats pleaded with him and the others to be left alone, didn’t leave when Auba told him we wasn’t happy with Marco’s decision. “Are you sure you can handle this?” said Auba, searching Marco’s face. “You worked so hard to get were you are,” he continued, “I just want you to protect yourself. You owe him nothing, Marco.” “I don’t owe him any part of me,” replied Marco, “but I do owe him my help. So please leave and let me deal with him, yeah?” Auba nodded slowly, brushed a kiss against Marco’s cheek and left with the others. Neven came up and hugged Marco loosely, telling him to call if he needed help. 

Marco waited and then somehow managed to get Mats into the cab when he came back out and out of the cab when they reached Marco’s flat. He had briefly entertained the thought of taking Mats back to his own place, but he was too worried that Mats would simply kick him out. 

And Marco had no clue how to do this because Mats’ body language was closed off and he wasn’t holding eye contact for longer than a moment. Marco had no idea how to give him what he needed, how to take away this fucking obvious hurt. He came slowly closer until he stood within touching distance and studied Mats’ bent head for a moment. “Do you want to eat something?” he said, keeping his voice low. Mats breathed in deeply and shook his head. “We just trained for hours Mats,” Marco said, not moving from where they were standing, “and I’m fucking hungry. You must be to. I’m going to prepare a quick dinner and you can rest on the couch.” Mats was still not looking at him and Marco wanted to shake him, wanted to at least know that he wasn’t making things worse by trying to help. “Or you can join me in the kitchen,” he said, “and make sure I don’t put too much salt in the food, hm?” He didn’t really expect an answer, but Mats lifted his head very briefly, looking at Marco. He nodded jerkily and then took a step around Marco and walked off towards the kitchen. Marco took a deep breath. He could do this. If he fucked this up he could still leave Dortmund overnight and join Bayern which was a sure way to make it impossible for him to ever enter the city again. 

Mats was sitting on one of Marco’s high chairs when he came in, elbows resting on the table. He was holding his head in his hands. Marco got him a glass of water and studied him for a moment. “Do you have a headache?” Mats nodded. “Want me to give you some painkillers?” Marco asked, leaning on the other side of the table. “Please,” Mats said and he still sounded terribly timid. Marco got up and went to his medicine cabinet, taking out the pills that would dissolve in water. He picked another glass of water for Mats and watched him down it immediately. Mats breathed out deeply and continued hanging his head and Marco just – couldn’t. He stepped around the table, took a seat next to Mats and carefully hugged him close with one arm. He was half expecting Mats to shrug him off or to take his leave straight away, but Mats took another shaky breath and the folded in on himself, hiding his face in the juncture between Marco’s neck and shoulder. Some of the awful tension coiled out of his body. Marco slowly stroked up and down his arm, leaning his head against the crown of Mats’ head. They stayed like this for almost half an hour, until Mats lifted his head, whispered “Thank you,” and broke their embrace. Marco watched him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. “Come,” he said softly and left his kitchen without checking if Mats was following him. He went into his living room, switching on his TV, found some boring documentary to watch. Mats was standing in the doorway, saying “Marco, I…,” “No,” Marco said quickly, “here is what we’re going to do, ok? You’re going to sit down and I am going to give you some blankets and some snacks and something to drink, and you’re going to sit here and relax and I am going to cook and then we’ll eat and see, ok?” Mats hesitated. “See what?” he said. “Nothing,” Marco said, “I just want you to stay here for awhile, ok? Talk with you or just watch TV if you don’t want to talk. Just – don’t leave, ok?” Mats nodded and sunk down on the couch and Marco gathered a few of his blankets and handed them to him. He went back into his kitchen and decided against any alcohol and got Mats a coke instead along with a bit of cheese, some crackers and some chocolate. When he came back into the living room, Mats was still sitting on the couch, blanket up to his chin and he looked lost and close to tears and Marco put down the things he was carrying, went back into his kitchen and dialed some delivery service. He ignored the other messages on his phone. Every single one of their teammates had written him, asking all kinds of questions about what they were doing and went back to Mats.

Marco sat down carefully next to Mats. “I ordered us pizza,” he said watching the documentary for a moment. Then he leaned back, decided that he could be courageous and put his arm around Mats again, cradling him close. Mats came willingly, hiding his face in Marco’s shirt. Marco stroked back Mats hair with his other hand, carefully massaging his scalp. “Shh,” he whispered when Mats started shaking. Mats shook his head, pushing himself closer to Marco and god, Marco was at a loss here. He burrowed his face into Mats’ hair, inhaling deeply. “Shh,” he said again, gently tightening his hold on Mats, who had in turn wrapped his arms around Marco’s waist and whose shuddering had somewhat calmed down. 

They stayed like this, Marco hunching down a bit to press a kiss on Mats’ temple and Mats growing more and more boneless with every minute. The doorbell rang loudly in their silence and Marco stroked through Mats’ hair one last time before getting up to collect their pizza. He got them two plates, because he hated eating out of the paper box and went back to Mats, who was blinking at him tiredly. “I’m not hungry Marco,” he whispered. Marco looked up from where he had spread hot sauce over their pizzas. “I’m pretty sure your body is,” he answered softly. Mats swallowed audibly, eyeing the pizza. “Not sure that I can keep that down,” he admitted, dropping his eyes once again to the floor. Marco picked up their two plates and carefully placed one in front of Mats. “Try a slice, at least,” he urged, “and stop if it gets too much, ok?” Mats nodded and Marco took his place on the couch again, touching Mats’ shoulder softly and stroking down his arm. They ate in silence, Mats stopping after two slices. He slid down on the couch and Marco used his free hand to maneuver him so they ended up with Mats’ head in Marco’s lap. Marco reached up to dim his living room lights until the main light source was his television. It wasn’t even nine in the evening but Mats was crashing fast, already half asleep, his breathing slow and deep. Marco let him be, didn’t want to interrupt the peaceful atmosphere between them. He slowly stroked Mats’ hair and watched trash TV for almost 2 hours, Mats asleep in his lap. It gave Marco time to study him and he carefully caressed Mats’ face, following the lines of his eyebrows, down his cheekbones and softly pressed his fingers against Mats’ lips. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Mats’ forehead. “Hey,” he whispered, “Mats, wake up, hm? Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Mats was blinking up at him and struggled out of Marco’s lap. “What time is it?” he asked, quickly wiping his hands over his face. “Almost 11,” Marco said, getting up to collect the remains of their dinner. “Let’s go to bed, I’m tired and we have training at 11 tomorrow.” “10 actually, you idiot,” Mats said wryly and then more softly, “You want me to stay?” His voice was caught somewhere between disbelief and hope and it gave Marco a pang so he answered with a simply “yes”, urged Mats up the stairs, gave him some clothes to sleep in and the old toothbrush he had once left behind and which Marco hadn’t thrown out yet. Mats got into bed quietly and Marco stretched out with a deep sigh once he had switched off the lights and crawled under the blankets himself. They fell asleep quickly, not touching. 

\--------------------

Marco woke up swearing because neither he nor Mats had set up their alarm and it was 9:30 and they would never make it to training in time. Mats had blinked awake slowly beside him and then continued to sit on Marco’s bed with his feet dangling in the air while Marco had rushed into his bathroom, taking the quickest shower he could manage. He was busy throwing things into his bag when he realized that Mats had still not moved and he stopped his frantic packing to go over to the bed and study Mats’ hanging head. “What’s wrong?” he asked and touched Mats again, because it had gone down well the evening before. Mats skin was a bit too warm and Marco frowned, stepping closer. “Do you feel sick?” he asked. Mats shook his head and looked up to meet Marco’s eyes. “Just…afraid, I guess,” he admitted. Marco cautiously hugged him close, pressing another kiss in Mats’ hair (he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon). “It’ll be fine, ok? You can count on your captain keeping you safe,” he added and grinned when Mats groaned into his belly. “I’m staying here in that case,” Mats muttered, looking up at Marco, as he was starting to get up when Marco stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You can stay here for as long as you want, yeah?” he said and tried to quell the stupid impossible hope in his chest. “I’d like to have you here with me,” he added carefully. Mats blushed and nodded and then ducked into the bathroom. Marco wrote a quick text to Auba (he had no fucking idea where he had put the keys to the stupid cars that he wasn’t allowed to drive) and they made it out the door by 9:50 to be greeted by a grumbling Auba who complained about them making him late. 

\--------------------

The air in the car was very different from Mats’ and Marco’s unspoken agreement to not have their talk yet. Mats had immediately picked the back seat and was staring out the window, shoulders hunched once again. Auba was pretty much silent during their drive to the training grounds, studying Mats in his rearview mirror. He parked the car swiftly and then said “Mats” in a tone of voice Marco barely ever heard him use. Marco knew what that voice meant (a good long scolding, preferably delivered to Marco when the teasing went to far) and said “no” immediately, staring Auba down. Mats met his eyes in the mirror and then dropped his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. Auba hesitated for a moment and then got out of the car without a further word. 

\--------------------

Training was awkward. Marco picked Mats as his warm-up partner, trying to get him to interact apart from the exercises they had to do. Mats was tense and timid, asking Marco to stop in a quiet voice when Marco wanted to drag him to where the team was getting together during water break. Marco had watched that behavior for months without stepping in and he regretted his inaction deeply, watching Mats being too uncomfortable with the other guys to even exchange a few meaningless words. Marco had seen this happening and how could he have let that happen, he knew that he was respected within the team even though most people from the outside did only see him in his role of joker and clown and how could he just not…

“Hey,” Mo said sunnily and draped an arm over Mats’ shoulders, grinning from cheek to cheek and Marco had to retract any earlier statements about him not kissing any boys other than Mats, because he really, really wanted to kiss Mo right now. Mo continued to chatter away, talking about his dog and Schmelle joined them after a moment, talking about his dog as well and Neven strolled over, claiming that cats were the better pets. Marco saw Auba take a deep breath and then he came over as well, standing on Mats’ other side (who was deep red by now). He wasn’t joining their conversation but Marco saw him wrap his fingers around Mats’ wrist, stroking Mats’ hand with his thumb. 

\--------------------

“Do you need a lift back home?” Auba asked after they had all taken their showers. Marco shook his head no and answered, “I’d like Mats to drive me, if he can.” Mats looked up briefly from where he was pulling on his socks. “Can he?” Auba said, nudging Mats’ thigh with his foot. “Sure,” Mats answered quietly. Auba nodded, hugged Marco quickly and then clasped Mats’ shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. Marco plopped down next to Mats, stroking his hand down the curved line of Mats’ back while Mats was tying up his shoes. “You’ll come with me for another night, yes?” Marco asked, feeling Mats’ muscles shift underneath his shirt. “I don’t know,” Mats answered carefully, “I don’t want to trouble you and…” “But you don’t trouble me at all,” Marco said quickly, “I like having you with me.” Mats drew in a sharp breath. They drove home together.

\--------------------

It started to become a pattern. They would drive to training together, where the others tried their best to draw Mats back into their pranks, discussions and after work activities. Marco was relieved to see Mats talking with Mo and Schmelle, kicking around with Neven and smiling at Papa and Miki. 

Their better team spirit couldn’t hide how out of form Mats was. Marco was quite sure that Mats not being able to play pain free, even though he didn’t talk about it. Mats was struggling with his own fitness as much as with trying to reconcile with the team and while he had quite some improvement in the latter, his self-confidence which was central to his performance on the pitch was practically non-existent. He didn’t play their next two games and Marco ached for him, could see the toll the ongoing questioning in the media took on him. 

Marco tried to help by being there, by taking Mats home and providing company. They took turns cooking food, doing the washing-up together and then they would fall on the couch and watch some TV or play some Fifa. Some evenings Mats would read a book while Marco was fooling around on his phone and some other evenings Marco would carefully sit down next to him and then continue to slouch down until he could rest his head on Mats’ chest, hearing Mats turn the pages of his book while they were breathing in sync. They usually got in bed early with Mats using the bathroom before Marco and then they would lie down next to each other and not touch and fall asleep.

\--------------------

And it was fine; it was okay, except how it wasn’t. Because Mats was right next to Marco and he still missed him terribly, missed reaching across the bed and being tugged close by Mats, missed pressing his smaller body against Mats’ long frame, missed how they were fitting so perfectly, how Marco could rest his head on Mats’ chest and Mats’ arms would come around him and made him feel the safest he had ever felt. And apart from their physical intimacy he missed the easy way they had shared their feelings and hopes and thoughts, missed being able to tell Mats what was going on in his life. He still had no idea what had happened between Mats and Cathy, could only guess why he hadn’t called Marco afterwards. Because no matter the spasm between them these days Marco wasn’t blind and he had watched Mats closely the last two weeks and he was sure that Mats still cared as much as Marco did. 

But where did that leave them really? Mats was making no move to change the nature of their relationship and Marco himself was too afraid to do so, holding on to the fragile peace that existed between them. He knew that they wouldn’t survive another rift, knew that the team’s opinion was mainly in his favor, no matter how unfair that was, so Marco knew that Mats would be done for if they would try it with each other again and fail once more. And really, being together two times and not working out? Marco wasn’t that stupid, no matter what public opinion thought. Being madly, deeply in love with someone didn’t equal having a happy, healthy and successful relationship no matter how much Marco wished for one of those with Mats. 

And so he tried to move on, tried to pull back their relationship into friendship territory. Mats and Marco went out with the guys, went out with Auba for dinner (who was watching them like a hawk, but had been strangely silent about their relationship ever since Marco had taken Mats home after his breakdown). He went out a few times with Marcel alone and Mats stopped sleeping at Marco’s house every night. And it was ok, as long as Marco ignored the heavy, tired feeling in his chest.

\--------------------

“You haven’t talked, have you?” Auba said two weeks later, while they were doing their stretching. Spring was in full bloom and they were doing well in the league, holding a second place after Bayern. They would most likely reach the final in the Europe League. There was no reason to feel restless, but Marco did, had done so for days, ever since the transfer rumors about a certain Dortmund defender had come back full force. “Talked about what?” Marco answered, hoping against hope to draw this out. “The two of you. Where you stand. What you mean to each other. If he is going to transfer. What happened when he broke up with Cathy. Why he keeps insisting on playing when we can all tell that he’s in pain. Why he keeps downplaying the extent of his injuries. Want me to go on?” “No,” Marco said quietly. Auba sighed and helped Marco get into a position that stretched his calf muscles further, warm hands on Marco’s hip and leg. “I feel like it’s for the best,” Marco admitted, “what we have now is good, yeah? It’s back to normal. I don’t want to mess anything up, again.” “You didn’t mess up, Marco,” Auba said, “knowing you two idiots all it would have taken was one of you call the other on New Year’s Eve and none of this would have happened.” Marco shrugged. He couldn’t really justify his own inaction and he had still no clue what had motivated Mats’ own. “I don’t want him to be in the same position again,” Marco said, “I can live with what the two of us have now. We’ve been friends first and I’m just happy we’re friends again.” Auba reeled him in, whispered, “ok” in his ear and proceeded to trash Marco in all the sprints they had to do shortly after.

\--------------------

And Marco had been telling the truth. He was happy. Mats was getting better. This was fine. He didn’t have to admit that he wanted nothing more than to press a kiss against Mats’ lips whenever he was smiling at him. Marco would get over this.

Marco had to rapidly retract any earlier statements when he was confronted with a single glaring, heart-breaking headline the next week: ‘Confirmed – Hummels leaving for Manchester United after this season’.

Marco would claim for himself that he learnt from past mistakes, so he tried calling Mats right away. Mats, naturally, didn’t pick up his phone. Papa showed up on time to pick Marco up for training, and Marco rambled about nothing for the 20 minutes it took them to reach the training grounds. Auba came up to them immediately after Papa had parked the car and Marco fumbled with his seat belt, stumbled out of the car and into Auba’s arms who came up to steady him. He wasn’t quite sure but he thought he said what he had turned over in his mind ever since reading the headline and which boiled down to: he’s leaving me, he’s leaving me, I have run out of time. 

“Marco,” Auba said, “you’ve got to calm down and listen to me, ok. If what you told me is true, then you’ll have to go in there and smile and congratulate him or you have to finally man up and talk to him about your feelings.” And he was right, he was, but Marco had a really hard time calming down. Auba gave him another few minutes and then leaned back to look at his face, obviously waiting for a decision. 

Marco managed a shaky smile and said, “I’m happy for him, if that’s what he wants.”

\--------------------

They made their way to the changing rooms. Mats was already in, eyes immediately on Marco’s face once he entered after Auba. Marco felt as if all air was rushing to leave his lungs all at once and then they were hugging and Marco patted Mats’ shoulders and said with a wide grin that hurt his face, “I’m happy for you” and the others came up and did the same and started their jokes about English teams and nobody needed to know that Marco’s hands shook like crazy when he was pulling on his cleats. 

“I think it’s a good step,” Mats said later on when they were dragging their equipment over the pitch. “Will help me to get back into the game. And I like the way the team plays. Basti will be there so I will know someone right away.” “That’s good,” Marco said, “you deserve it. I know you always wanted to take that step. Just don’t foul me once we play Champions League against each other,” he added and tried to grin. Mats was looking at him, straight at him and for a terrible moment Marco thought he had been caught, but then Mats just wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in Marco’s hair. “I’ll miss you though,” Mats said, “I’ll miss you a lot.” “Hey,” Marco said weakly, “I’m still here and so are you.”

\--------------------

And they were, Marco kept telling himself. They continued to hang out, never talking about the upcoming changes, finishing their season pretty successfully. The team had a huge farewell party for Mats and Mo, who was going to join Köln. Marco got well and truly smashed, because he felt as if his life was ending. He tried to catch Mats for a minutes of privacy, but everyone wanted to talk to Mats and Marco didn’t want to drag him away forcefully. He saw Mats looking at him from time to time and he returned Mats’ gaze with a calm he didn’t feel. 

Marco went back with Mats to his house that night and stared at his packed bags and boxes, feeling slightly drunk and queasy. Auba had followed them and was trying to beat Mats in Fifa and Marco simply sunk down between them on the floor, leaning his back against the couch. He caught himself thinking that he couldn’t believe that his was over and he let his eyes fall closed; let his body lean in the direction of Mats’ legs. A hand came up to card through his hair and Marco felt like crying, had really fought against tears the whole night, so he stumbled up as good as he could and excused himself. He went outside in Mats’ huge garden and wanted to sink on his knees, claw his hands into the deep, rich soil of the flowerbeds. He wanted someone to have mercy on him, wanted to keep Mats with himself. He wanted to shout at the stars, begging someone to not take Mats away, but there was no one listening and so he just stood in the cool air, trying to concentrate on drawing in breath after breath. 

\--------------------

Auba looked angry when Marco came back inside and Mats looked worried and guarded. Marco had no idea what had been going on between the two of them, knew that Auba was only here for Marco’s sake, knew that Auba hadn’t been happy with Mats for weeks. So Marco claimed to be tired while he felt like buzzing out of his skin and then they were standing in front of Mats’ house and this was it – Marco would never stand here again, wouldn’t get to look into Mats’ eyes again for a long time. He tried to concentrate on the hug, because Mats wouldn’t hug him for just as long, tried to cling for just a moment longer while Mats’ arms were tightening around Marco. Mats pressed a kiss on his temple and Marco pressed out another watery congratulation and well wishes and that was it, Mats let him go and Auba was hugging Mats briefly and then they were in the car, driving away and Auba rested his hand on Marco’s leg when he started to weep. 

\--------------------

“Come to France with me for a few weeks,” Auba urged when he visited Marco two days later. Marco knew how he looked – he had barely made it out of bed that day, didn’t exactly remember if he had had food yesterday. His eyes were probably bloodshot as well. “I don’t want to,” Marco repeated for the hundredth time, “I’ll be fine on my own so please stop worrying.” “Marco,” Auba said and he sounded as serious as he could get, “you’re not fine. You need to stop lying to yourself. I’m not feeling fine with you being by yourself for three weeks and you are doing nothing to reassure me that I am worrying for nothing!” Marco swallowed. “I won’t be alone, ok? I’m asking Marcel and Robin to go with me to Ibiza for a week and it’ll take my mind off things. And if I need to talk with someone, I’ll call you. Happy?” Auba sighed. "I know that you just prefer going on holidays with them, because they have no clue what's happening and it will be easier for you to pretend you're doing fine," Auba said wearily. Marco shrugged. It was true, but he would never admit it and Auba knew it.

\--------------------

Ibiza was a fiasco. Marco wanted to do nothing, especially not going out for drinks and clubbing and girls. But then, the only thing he really wanted to do was book a flight to Manchester and beg Mats to love him, which wasn’t an option. Maybe. It probably wasn’t. 

Robin kept bothering him and Marcel tried to find him girls to take his mind off things and both of them had no idea why Marco was feeling so bad. Marco slept as long as he could each day and then he stared at the ceiling for another hour, before he dragged his tired body under the shower. On one day he didn’t manage the shower, to caught up in old messages Mats had written him so many months ago. Marcel found him like this, crying into his pillow and he didn’t say a word, just climbed into bed with Marco and let him bury his face in his shirt. Robin came in some time later and just sat on Marco’s bed and stroked his back. 

And Marco loved them, he did and so he took all the courage he had into his hands and told them what was happening.

It didn’t go so well.

“So, you’re telling me you are into fucking guys?” said Marcel, eyes wide from where he had scrambled off to after Marco had finished talking. “Fuck, are you kidding me? Do you think about fucking me and Robin as well?” “Marcel,” said Robin, voice loud and angry, “stop being an idiot.” “He lied to us for years and you’re telling me I’m being an idiot? He likes to get ass-fucked and I’m the idiot?!” yelled Marcel and Marco beat a hasty retreat into his bathroom, phone clutched tight in his hands. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He heard Robin yell at Marcel and Marcel screamed back and his heart wasn’t thundering in his chest. Marcel banged on his bathroom door and told him to come out and face this like a man and not a goddamn fucking pussy and Marco knew in an abstract way that he was panicking. He tried telling himself that he could face this alone, he could, but maybe he could also text Auba for advice.

Auba was livid. If Marco could concentrate on anything else than his panic he would probably being smug about Auba being wrong for once. 

Marco sat in his bathroom until Marcel stopped yelling. He continued sitting in his bathroom until Marcel came up to his door and apologized and told him he was taking Robin out for dinner. Auba, who hadn’t stopped texting Marco, told him to get his bags and move out of the villa he had rented (and come to France, obviously). 

Marco had always been deeply scared about opening up to someone about himself and being rejected for who he was. It was one of his biggest fears and he had therefore never told anyone about who he wanted to love. Mats had guessed right and Auba had guessed right and he had still no idea how the team had found out but Marco hadn’t told a single soul, and had never wanted to come out to anyone. He had been close to telling Mario once, but hadn’t in the end and he was still not sure weather he regretted keeping his silence. He felt like shit. It didn’t help that Robin had seemed to be fine with the revelation and that Marcel had already admitted to over-reacting. Marco was terrified and there was only one person who could make him feel safe. 

Mats sounded surprised when he picked up his phone. Marco started talking immediately, knowing that if he took his time he would never get this out. Mats let him ramble for a few minutes and when he interrupted Marco his voice was so soft that Marco wanted to cry. “Sweetheart,” said Mats, “try to calm down, ok? If you really do feel threatened you can live, but I think that Marcel was just surprised, and sorry, but he's stupid as fuck. Give him a few moments, yeah?” “You’re not here,” pressed Marco out, “I can’t do this alone, I…” “You can,” said Mats immediately, voice sure, “you can. I know you can. I know it’s scary, but they love you. They're just surprised, that's all.” Marco took a deep breath and angrily swiped a hand over his eyes. He knew that he wasn’t in any real danger, knew that Marcel wasn’t the kind of person to attack or hurt him, but he was still so fucking terrified. “You’ll be fine,” said Mats and it reassured Marco enough to end the call with a promise of calling again after Marcel and Robin returned. He went down the stairs to watch some TV in the living room and maybe find some alcohol when the front door was being opened and Marcel and Robin came in, pizza boxes and a six-pack of beer in their hands. Marco froze, pulse skyrocketing. 

Marcel took a deep breath. “I’ve been a fucking idiot,” he said, “and I didn’t mean what I said. It's just really surprisig when the guy you tried to find girls for for years, turns out to be interested in guys. I feel like an idiot. Sorry.” Robin was giving him a look and Marcel shrugged his shoulders and said, “I am really sorry. You hurt my pride or something and I reacted like an idiot, but I brought you pizza?” Robin rolled his eyes. Marco took a deep breath and nodded and Marcel grinned at him, going up to him and after a moment he hugged Marco close. Robin tousled Marco's hair and they settled down with their pizza. Marco still felt a bit on edge, but he could handle this. He could. Paris sucked anyways. 

"What's wrong though," Marcel asked after they had finished their food, "did you have a breakdown about how to tell us or is something else going on?" Marco hesitated. Robin nudged him with his foot and said "You don't have to tell us right away. But you can talk to both of us, ok? Whatever it is." Marco nodded and remembered Mats' sure voice that he could handle this. 

He didn't tell them everything, decided against revealing the identity of the guy he had fallen in love with. Marcel and Robin listened attentively and when Marco had finished Marcel got up to get them some more beer and Robin hugged Marco close, telling him he was sorry and he hated that Marco was in a shitty situation. They had some more alcohol, but Marco felt as if he had put his body through the grinder and excused himself pretty early.

"I know that you were scared earlier," Marcel said when he came into Marco's bedroom to wish him a goodnight, "and I'm incredibly sorry for scaring you. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did." "It's ok," Marco whispered. Marcel grinned. "If Auba is trying to run me over with his car after we return, I'll know you lied," he said. Then he came into the room after all, pressing a kiss against Marco's forehead. "I'm here for you," said Marcel softly, "just tell me what had you so freaked out at some point, yeah?" Marco swallowed and nodded. Marcel left his room, closing the door and Marco knew he had to finish two calls before he could finally crash into bed. 

“Hey,” Auba said, picking up his phone after the first ring, “you ok?” Marco confirmed and Auba sighed. “Never shut up on me again in a situation like this yeah? I was worried sick. And I had to have a really awkward conversation with Mats that I need to bleach from my memory.” Marco made a questioning noise. “I called him when you stopped answering your phone,” said Auba, “and there is no point in apologizing because you were already talking with him anyways, so don’t make me. Are you coming to Paris now?” Marco declined once more, Auba muttered some more about Marcel being a tool and a dick and a butthead and Marco had to laugh at one point, feeling immensely better. "He was pretty alright after coming back, though," Marco said thoughtfully. "He's still a dickhead," Auba answered, "but I'm glad it worked out. I kind of knew it would, but I'm still sorry for telling you that you should open up to them. That's up to you, yeah?" Marco rolled his eyes and called Auba names. Auba snickered.

Then he called Mats. 

“I’m proud of you,” Mats said simply, “for telling someone in the first place and then for reaching out when you needed help.” “Thanks,” Marco managed whose voice had apparently decided to stop working. Mats chuckled. “Call me again soon, yeah?” Mats said, “I miss talking to you.” “I will,” Marco promised, voice still hoarse. He had always been a sucker for Mats praising him or telling him that he had done well. It apparently hadn't lost its magic even though they had stopped being involved romantically. 

\--------------------

He kept that promise, kept it all through the rest of their holidays and the beginning of pre-season training, kept it when he was so swamped with training and media work and preparation for the euros after the season had started that all days blended right into each other and he fell asleep as soon as he sat down for more than ten minutes. He kept it right until December when he woke up on the day of their last match before winter break to a headline asking if Mats and Cathy were reconciling, picturing Cathy in the Manchester stands and another blurry one of her hugging Mats after his game. When Mats called that night, he didn’t pick up and he kept not picking up until 10 days later when Mats called for the last time.


End file.
